


The Small of Bucky's Back

by Voodoosgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Art, Body Worship, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Consensual, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 10:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16931544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voodoosgirl/pseuds/Voodoosgirl
Summary: That place on a body that fascinates a lover. For Steve, it's the small of Bucky's back.





	The Small of Bucky's Back

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for: The Small of Bucky's Back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123722) by [kittyandmulder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyandmulder/pseuds/kittyandmulder). 



> Giving smut another go! Hope you enjoy my humble offering. The amazing KittyandMulder graced this story with wonderful art that truly captures what I saw in my mind when I wrote this. Please go visit their art in the link. It is gorgeous work!

The small of Bucky’s back, soft inward curving, faint scars whispering stories of hard wounds not privy to the serum, existence begging Steve’s attention. Questions asked, light stroke of his hand, lingering gaze deep filled with concern, answered with the softest of admonitions, “It’s over now, make love to me.” History leaving marred flesh blending to hide beneath taut muscles, pale skin.  
  
Steve loving that one space not more than any other facet of Bucky’s body, somehow drawn to watch and touch and toy with that place certain, the slope and dip gentle, nestled above rounded softness. Steve’s familiar exploration, palm-fitting perfect in that curve, bracing his fingered preparation, forcing aching murmurs, caught breaths, stealing Bucky’s focus, his body falling pliant and submissive to his hand.  
  
  
Days passing chaotic, demands and obligations keeping them apart. Steve projecting control, Bucky silent following, navigating the world’s expectations, one leading by example, one intent on redemption.  
  
That specific tender skin haunting Steve’s awareness, flesh hidden beneath layered clothing, echoed memory of its warmth distracting in the random of their days. Craving skin connection, a stolen touch appearing casual, light press to that soft patch, the heated caress lasting seconds longer than brotherly, slipping from sight before it called for a prying glance, the outside world oblivious to its meaning.  
  
Brush possessive not lost on Steve or Bucky, both weakening internal with the press of fingers to a back. Side-long glance from gray eyes given furtive and meaningful, telling Steve of his want for more. Memory recalling desperate panted breaths, familiar voice rasped and pleading “Come inside me,” echoes spreading an aching twist in Steve’s gut. Bucky’s faint shivered acknowledgment, electric beneath his hand, clothing not hindering the heat of his embrace.  
  
Anxious wish for time to pass, thoughts revisiting their sex, lingering images of Bucky’s intimate skin, sloping long and tense down and away from Steve’s hips. Calloused fingertips twitched with longing in the ghosted recall of slipping in the sheen of sweat drawn from Bucky’s body by his touch, his taking.  
  
Day’s end finally arriving, silent rush to meet at their bed, world’s demands shut out beyond the closing of their door.  
  
  
Steve’s mind holding cherished to their purposeful exchange before beginning each night sharing a bed; his hands cupping Bucky’s face, gazes intent connecting, mouths near a consummating kiss, pointed request, “I want your permission.”  
  
Bucky’s clear answer, voice heavy with need, “Yes, always yes.”

~~~

 

“Damn, why did we wait so long to do this?” Same question repeated, spoken existential. Steve’s cautious entering, his filling of Bucky’s body, warm liquid wrapping his slow and measured descent. Eyes closing reactive, conscious thought succumbing to pressured darkness engulfing his cock. Words close to interrupting the balance of want and wait, sentence falling to a mutter.  
  
Caught breath staggering, mingled low moan, Bucky’s response not needing coherence, his answer the same, thighs spreading wider, hand reaching for Steve’s, fingers entangling, murmur low near inaudible, “Now, we have now.”  
  
Steve forcing eyes open, savoring matched heartbeats, felt skin-to-skin, Bucky on his knees, the round of his ass raised before him, darkness filled and waiting, hinting tremor, tense expectation. Muscled tightness giving to his entry, nerves spreading heat across shared flesh. Steve holding still, watching the wetness pulled from his skin forming slow and insistent, beaded droplets shed, trickling rivulets sliding down towards shoulders, all coming from his touch. Faint pooling of sweat glistens inviting at the small of Bucky’s back.  
  
Bold yellow, deep reds of sunset cutting angled to skin wetness, lifting fine hairs to glow in the fading light. Bed sheets crumpled around hands and knees, cascade of brown hair spread messy and damp across a pillow. Time tracking forgotten, sunlight passing to dusk moving to moonlight, souls thought lost to one another, holding firm, now found.  
  
“Come here, I need you closer,” Steve lifting Bucky no effort, pulling him near, both kneeling broad chest pressing scarred back, possessive-embracing. Palms widespread on his body, teasing fingers pulling nipples hard erect, cock buried near complete, reveling in the withholding, causing his moan.  
  
Bucky’s breathing ragged, whimpered protest, body arching, demanding Steve’s movement, hands reaching, gripping his ass, pulling futile, muttered complaint “Come on, Stevie, do it, stop teasing.”  
  
Flushing redness chasing across Steve’s chest, mouth pressing Bucky’s neck, “Not teasing, I need this,” lips taking his skin, beard raking flesh, needing to know he’s real, holding their connection. Face buried in hair, deep breath pulling his scent embedded in his memory, rasping whisper, “Want to feel what it’s like inside of you, hold you, memorize this.”  
  
Needing his hand wrapped in cascading dark softness, weight heavy against his chest, Steve pulling thick hair, head lolling compliant to rest on his shoulder, rush of heat for Bucky’s whispering “Yes.”  
  
Throat laid bare, tongue dragging wet and slow, Steve hungering for the taste of his skin. Sharp bite seeking the bruise, craving Bucky’s gasp, hissing approval. A teasing pull away breath warm on pulled redness, knowing he wanted more, waiting expectant, not disappointed. Bucky’s whined squirming under his hold, shoulder struggling to find his mouth, pale skin presenting asking for more, body fighting his grasp, testing his strength, rocking Steve’s will.  
  
Arms tight-jerking hard possession, “So impatient,” Steve’s guttural groan staking his claim, hand shaking fisted hair, fingers twisting a nipple, cock sharp burying deeper, “Stop struggling,” a whisper to Bucky’s ear, tongue leaving wetness to soft flesh, drawing his moan, skipping Steve’s pulse.  
  
Breaths falling to measured, long and slow, tight-pinning Bucky pressed to his chest, body relaxing into Steve’s arms, allowing his hold. Erratic heartbeats settling, rhythmic and matching, seconds to minutes passing. A tenuous daring push up, a rise of his hips, deepening his fit, teasing along tender flesh, pulling a moaned approval from Bucky with each deliberate excursion.  
  
“You feel me inside of you?” Steve’s words rasping to an ear made tender red by his bite, agreement coming in a whimpering; measured pulling back to drive deeper again, marking his question. “I know you can feel me, talk to me. Tell me how it feels.” Steve urging what he knew Bucky would only give in his actions, not words, pushing him still, teeth catching delicate flesh, nuzzled to his neck, tongue teasing his temple.  
  
Metal hand sharp catching his head, tugging mouths together, growled kiss hungered and ragged. Bucky’s open-mouthed taking forceful and desperate, metal fingers deep pressured, strength hinting at pain. Mouth covering mouth, tongue gathering his taste, sweeping drives deeper, taking his wetness. Steve closing his eyes, desperate welcoming each second of Bucky’s owning, the hunger stealing his breath, glimmer of fear teasing mind edges.  
  
Unwilling glances at loss of control, Steve forcing the kiss deeper, fingers raking through hair, palm to his scalp, holding heads close, not allowing escape from his matching, drowning in the taste of him. Teeth catching a lip, nipping bite leaving the swell, pulling an aching whine, Steve losing himself in the feel and sound and heat of Bucky.  
  
Reluctant breaking the kiss, eyes open pupils wide studying Bucky’s face, down-turned mouth, lips swelled with redness, gaze intent watching him back. Words not needed between them. Tugging Bucky’s hair, keeping their mouths apart, temples pressing firm, tongue quick-stealing hinted caress to lash and cheek and nose, “Fine, no talking then.” Hands settling one on a shoulder, one holding his waist, sharp push to force him to the bed, hips keeping tight-bound to Steve.  
  
Bucky not unwilling, allowing rough hands, succumbing to demand, only Steve’s demands, fingers gripping the mattress, hair spread tousled on the pillow. Conscious awareness tight-holding to Steve, hands roaming his flesh, cock filling his body, one thread weaving its way through, all touch coming from the only one he trusted.  
  
Steve’s gaze consuming Bucky’s flesh warm and tense, his offer of submission, muscles trembling beneath the claiming spread of his palms. Bodies fitting intimate, hips opening wider, giving him access, offering his body vulnerable, pushing his history into the past. Gifted trust settling deep in Steve’s heart.  
  
“God, you’re beautiful,” Steve’s murmur near unheard, palm roaming addictive from thigh to hip to spine, tracing hard bone to hard bone, nerves craving the feel of his skin, faint tremor tense muscles holding their position, waiting for Steve to begin.  
  
Soft hissing Bucky’s voice, “Shhhh...” predicted response with each attempt of praise.  
  
Bodies moving cautious in tandem, fingers wandering to their connection, thumbs teasing flesh open, freeing his careful easing ingress, filling Bucky dark and comforting.  
  
Steve’s cock settling inside Bucky’s body, taking that space, slipping pressure to tenderest of flesh. Low voiced tease, knowing the truth, “Right spot?” Soft whining answer, back arching, Bucky’s hips anxious asking, squirming insistence held still and stopped by Steve’s tight restraint, hands wrapping his thighs, not letting him steal a second of friction before Steve would allow.  
  
“Nope. You’re mine, right now. Hold still.” Chastisement pulling a groan, seconds ticking past, fists clenching closed and open, breaths panting audible. Steve holding onto the moment, listening to his low breathed moan, edging his frustration. Steve’s hands locking tight-grip to Bucky’s thighs, forcing the wait, delaying his want, the ache for his cock to rake hard to his flesh.  
  
“Fuck me, Stevie, I can’t wait anymore.” Bucky’s voice raw and near to a whine.  
  
“Shhh...” Few seconds pause, Steve jerking hips forward, distant gasps captured by the pillow, pulling out enough to graze Bucky’s flesh, a finger’s breadth away no more, unwilling to break their connection. Hard push to fill him deeper, teasing that spot, angled and knowing, driving the whine, pulling his sweat, tensed muscles weakened and pliant, forcing the moans, hushed and building. Steve owning all of Bucky.  
  
Cock buried deep repeating, Bucky’s claiming rhythmic pressure wrapping around him. Steve’s body sure of the sensations, anxious reach to drag fingers to taut muscles, pushing sweat with hard-pressed lines, drawing the twitch beneath his skin with the taking of his hip. Hand spreading wide across his belly, fingertip purposeful glancing a brush to his cock, holding firm to the tease fighting Bucky’s squirming protest.  
  
“Touch me, please touch me,” Bucky’s gasping beg.  
  
Steve falling forward, chest to back needing their skin-to-skin, tight holding his body losing himself in the feel of his closeness. Full weight carried by Bucky’s back, breaths falling in together matching in and out, slowing down his taking, cock heavy and aching, near to coming from the sound of Bucky’s begging ask.  
  
Dragging his beard to burn across a muscled back, desperate breaths of his scent known forever guarded close here and now. Mouth tasting his skin, pulling blood to the surface, Bucky’s moaning response urging him on, next and next, deep bruising left behind Bucky’s body pushing up into his mouth, whispered asking “More, do it more.” Long hair caught up in Steve’s fist, never knowing he needed this softness entangled through his fingers, craving it now. Body rocking forward, fingers tugging back, Bucky’s rolling hips to meet his push, seamless movements in tandem filling their need for one another.  
  
Steve’s body craving the tightness, mind needing the sound of Bucky’s voice, every moan, or gasp, word or whine, friction telling that he’s real, heart aching at their time apart, thoughts grasping for the present.  
  
Temple caressing Bucky’s back, tongue dragging bitter taste of metal, harsh reality, cherished more for the gift of his surviving. Lips claiming cold scars, fighting his shoulder’s rolling withdrawal, not releasing his hold, stubborn embracing every jagged line and crevice, coolest of flesh. Taste and smell and feel all telling Steve he’s there, real and not ghosted.  
  
Bucky’s voice whispering ragged, “Stevie,” muffled and distant behind the blood pounding in his head, breath catching effort to listen, words soft and pleading, “Touch me, Stevie, I need you to touch me.” Metal fingers leading his hand, wrapping his fingers, bringing him to rest between his legs.  
  
“Not yet. Not ready yet,” Steve’s soft laugh cut short with Bucky’s jerking hips back, driving him deeper, shooting pain of the jarring motion, rocking him onto his haunches.  
  
Steve catching his hair, “Brat, you’re a brat,” hands wrapping his body, pulling him up, back to chest sitting captive and tight-bound in Steve’s lap. Arms entangling, respectful restraint, Bucky held from reaching his cock; whine of protest, cursory struggle to free himself from Steve’s holding denial.  
  
Full palms settling on Bucky’s chest. Head lolling back to Steve’s shoulder, arms pinned willing, breath panting, cock heavy between his legs, faint wetness hinting at its tip. Bucky giving himself over to Steve’s hands, searching his flesh, fingertips brushing a glance to nipples, matching circular caress, light touch to pull a twitch, tighter grip to voice a moan, hands slipping to sweated skin, toying with coarse hair, nearing his cock not touching. Hands roaming a teased grazing of his thighs, slipping between his legs, close passing, not taking the skin that ached for Steve's touch.  
  
Lips pressing the slope of Bucky’s neck, bites pulled to bruises, tongue laving comfort to the hint of pain. Hips rolling rhythmic meeting one another, teasing brush of fingers to his shaft. Steve's mouth finding Bucky's, wanting that specific warmth, taste mingling, the consuming wetness of their bodies joined, his need muffling Bucky’s whisper, “Finish me, please.”  
  
“Finish you? Is that what you want?” Steve’s smile filling his voice, body pushing hard, “Fine, then help me,” his fingers slipping deep to Bucky’s mouth, taking his wetness, falling to his shaft, thumb raking milky droplets to mingle wet in his hand, stroking slow and pressured.  
  
  
Bucky wanting only this touch, Steve’s hands pressed to his body, taking his flesh, trusting his hands alone, history slipping to shadows. Tension dissipating, breath hot in his hearing, a finger's caress of nipples, enough for pleasure, a stop before the pain, fine-line known without his telling. Body willing, rocking into a trusted hand, Steve’s fingers pulling sharp and slow, teasing and firm. Gasping breath building, desperate search to grip Steve's body, hand grabbing a thigh, metal fingers catching his hip. Wanting nothing more than to say his name, whispered or shouted, murmured rasping comfort in the throes of his coming, "Steve."  
  
Come spilling warm across his fingers, pressured tightness engulfing, sweat-sheened bodies close moving rhythmic and hungry, all bringing Steve to his edge. One sound pushing him over, Bucky's voice, graveled emotion, saying his name, breath staggered, body shaking after his coming, darkened room covering the echo of a sob, stealing Steve's control. Body spilling his come hearing his name repeating "Steve, God, Steve."

~~~

  
  
Pale moonlight streaming soft to skin still damp with their sweat, Bucky lying prone on their bed, Steve lying on his side, close watching over. Pointed study of sleeping features, faint twitch of an eye lost in gentle dreams, skin smoothed by peaceful rest, lips bearing the swell and redness of their kisses. One finger careful tracing the dips and curves of his body, drawn to the slope of his back, circled motions finding the dimples, hesitant exam of old scars, following the swirls of fine hair.  
  
Unable to resist the pull of his nearness, “Are you asleep?” Steve’s whispering not answered.  
  
Undeterred, a continued exploration, fingers slipping in sweat yet to dry, wandering pale flesh, palm flat measuring its fit to the small of Bucky's back. Hand finding its way to the round of his ass, cautious probing to settle between the lift of that flesh, a faint smirk as one finger slid to toy with tender swollen flesh. A wider smile for the purposeful rise of Bucky’s ass to meet his exploration, “So, not asleep I take it.”  
  
Bucky's long stretch, shoulders rolling, hips moving to bring the sloping small of his back to curl round then drop curving again, knowing full well the extent of Steve’s obsession. Metal fingers catching Steve’s hair, pulling him in, soft whisper to his mouth, “Not anymore.”

 

 


End file.
